


the name of life

by AnimeDomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drabble, First Meetings, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Prayer, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shinto, mention of gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimeDomo/pseuds/AnimeDomo
Summary: Tooru just knew that they viewed the world the same, that he had finally found someone who walked the same plane as him and felt the spirits and gods just as he did. He saw it in the way he prayed, in the way he gazed at the mountain and closed his eyes when he felt the wind. He was meant to be here.Shrine Keep-Tooru has a mild infatuation with a regular patron at the Shrine his family cares for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It feels like ages since I've written anything, or even, ya'know - just enjoyed life in general - so I figured I should slowly acclimate myself to it again and began with a short drabble. I've begun trying to project my own thoughts and feelings into my work and took this as an opportunity to divulge into the religious conflict and experiences I've struggled with over the past year.
> 
> Please take care of yourselves and pursue the things that you love. This life is too short.

Oikawa Tooru wasn't often impressed with other people. He didn't believe people were born cruel or hateful, but life did something to them. The weight of existence crushed them and made them miserable, vapid, vain, coarse. They appeared at the Shrine on the holidays, cleansing themselves and purchasing charms they'd hang in their car till the New Year rolled around. They clapped their hands in shallow prayer, ringing the Shrine bell to awaken a god they never thought twice of between the bustle of their “real” daily lives. They never gazed in amazement at the world, never showed reverence outside of what was expected of them.

So he didn't often care for others and their twisted words and bitterness, or the petty judgments they pressed upon him.

But him, oh – he cared for him.

Dark eyes that never looked his way and a deep voice that never spoke his name, a void Tooru was drawn to. An occurrence of luck and a notable patron at the Shrine, head bowed in prayer. The soft spring breeze passed, carrying with it the petals of sakura season and the man's dark eyes following it up to the distant hills as if he could hear the Gods themselves speak inside that rustle of trees.

That moment was the first time their eyes met, and Tooru felt something within him crumple, fragile as rice paper.

-

He was bringing offerings to the Shrine, now, and Oikawa Tooru felt that strange draw he always felt when the stranger visited the Shrine. An incessant tugging that always led him to the young man with the dark hair and sunburned shoulders and serious face. Perhaps Amaterasu herself had scorned him, tying him to a stranger in this small town on the coast. All he had ever wished for growing up was to escape, to hide away from this only place he's ever known, but here he sat, sweeping the steps of the town Shrine on a Thursday afternoon and wishing he knew that man's name. He needed it. He could feel it in the elements of his body and hear it in the gravel under his shoes as he stood. The Shrine was silent, devoid of other patrons at the strange hour.

The other man looked up as Tooru approached and Tooru nearly lost his nerve as he was finally close enough to realize that the man's eyes were a deep emerald, haunting and strong and yet somehow wistful as he knelt there on the Shrine steps in early spring, palms still pressed together. Tooru just knew that they viewed the world the same, that he had finally found someone who walked the same plane as him and felt the spirits and gods just as he did. He saw it in the way he prayed, in the way he gazed at the mountain and closed his eyes when he felt the wind. He was meant to be here.

Tooru took a deep breath, looking to the Shrine entrance for strength.

Iwaizumi “Isn't It Rude To Interrupt a Man Praying?” Hajime.

Oikawa rocked back on his heels, the soles of his shoes flirting a little too closely with the edge of the step on which he stood. “My family helps maintain the Shrine. I guess you could say I work for the Gods. I'll put in a good word for you.”

Iwaizumi's smile was lopsided. There was a chip in one of his front teeth and his eyes crinkled with his incredulous grin. Tooru's breath left his body as though it had been stolen, or extinguished like a fire.

But that was fine, because Iwaizumi Hajime's touch was a fire itself. Whatever he had stolen from Tooru in their first encounters he drew back to life within him like a benevolent creator; calloused fingers against his skin, branding him with their shared body heat and tangled thoughts. Iwaizumi's dark stare was enough to steal him away again. Tooru hoped he was never found.

-

Tooru was studying himself in the mirror, ignoring the messy room and dirty laundry reflected in its surface. He pressed two fingers to his throat, angling himself just so to view the full extent of the violet bruises lining his neck and trailing down his chest. The dark blues of broken blood vessels and the red teeth marks of heated union by which he could trace his blurry memories. He ached as he moved, and it made him grin.

Hajime's reflection suddenly joined his own, framed by the ornamental mirror like a sinful portrait. Hajime pressed his lips to Tooru's bare shoulder, eyeing the Shrine-keep in the inverted image as he raised a hand to the taller man's throat. His fingers gently ran a path from collarbone to chin and back again, mapping Tooru's own earlier explorations.

“Sorry,” He whispered, as though the Gods might hear and turn their eyes to what they had done. As if they didn't already know. As if the two were not created for one another with a steady, celestial hand. How could the blood in Tooru's veins thrum so when he spotted the other, or his soul feel fit to burst when Hajime's thumb brushed his cheek in the late afternoon sun, if they were not made to hold one another in both prayer and passion? How could a god not see the way Tooru had been rebuilt anew by this man that cradled him so gently and not believe this to be a noble path?

Tooru craned his neck ever so slightly, eyes never leaving Hajime's in the mirror.

“I think it looks like a galaxy,” he returned with a soft smile.

Hajime straightened, resting his cheek against Tooru's, who watched in the reflection as Hajime's eyes fluttered closed and that ghostly, lopsided smile he had first seen what felt like eons ago reappeared. “We're all made of stardust, hm?” Hajime quoted gently.

Fading sunlight filtered through the cloth curtain over the window, long waves of red and orange light that lit up the side of Hajime's face and left the rest of him in deep shadow where he stood, fit to Tooru's side as though they had been created from the same mold, from the same dying nebula as he.

Hajime hugged Tooru closer, warm and comfortable, and Tooru felt his gentle sigh waft over his shoulder. He silently thanked the gods above and below, all the spirits and guides that had led him to this man tracing the freckles on his shoulders like constellations. He thanked them, knowing he'd let this man spirit him away to anywhere, knowing that anywhere was where he was meant to be – with Iwaizumi Hajime by his side.


	2. Chapter 2

It was festival day; a day to honor the Shrine gods, pray to them for safety and guidance, and drink under the sunset in their celestial grace. Meaning it was one of the busiest days of the year for the Oikawa's – overseeing ceremonies and welcoming patrons to pay their respects, tidying the grounds. Tooru's heart felt heavy as he rolled out of his mat that morning, holding a mental list of all his responsibilities. Responsibilities meant that he could not spend a quiet evening with Iwaizumi Hajime like he had been doing the past two weeks since Tooru had first asked the man his name.

His heavy heart quickly lifted when he spotted a familiar dark head from afar, slowly coming into view as Tooru bobbed his way up the never ending stone steps that led to the only town Shrine. His body hummed with recognition, even from this distance. The man was exiting, an empty basket under his arm, and Tooru found it strange for him to be there so early on Matsuri day with the sun so young on the horizon.

“Early riser,” Tooru quipped as their paths drew near. 

Hajime shook his head. “I knew you would be busy today, but I wanted to see you.” He looked embarrassed at the admission, green eyes sliding down the hillside to watch the stalls and tents being erected along the streets, the town's final touches for the annual event painted as bright coloured vendors. Everything in Tooru's body screamed for him to reach out – to take his hand, to press closer, to breathe deep the scent of cologne and the greenhouse Hajime's grandmother kept, an earthy mixture that became familiar to Tooru on all their evenings spent on those very stone steps long after prying eyes had retired.

Tooru spotted one of his sisters, already adorned in her formal wear, tending to the storage shed none too far away. He knew his father to be inside, fussing with the Chouzuya. He refrained from his desires, even though it made his heart ache and his palms itch.

“Nine.”

“Huh?” Hajime's eyes found his again, confusion furrowing his dark brows. The expression was endearing. It made Tooru smile.

“If I'm lucky, most people will be gone drinking by nine o'clock, and I can slip away for a bit.”

Hajime himself smiled something sly, eyes warm. “Meet by the park?”

“I'll pray for the gods' favor.”

-

The town had donated generously, Tooru and his sisters taking the stock while griping to the priest about wanting to retire for the evening. They'd been dedicated to the day since sunrise. The mild-mannered clergy man waved them off, all three Oikawa siblings making for the main hall with haste and giggling amongst themselves. Tooru knocked into a Hishaku as he rushed, stopping to return it hurriedly into the Chouzuya with a small splash and nearly tripping over his own sandled feet as he ran for the door. It was already past ten o'clock. Perhaps Hajime had gone. The thought made Tooru's heart feel like crumbling stone.

“I know we're all eager to join the party, but why such the rush, little brother?” His older sister looked both suspicious, and knowing. Tooru had only begun meeting with Hajime for a few mere weeks, but his sister wasn't a fool. She could see the change in his mannerisms, in the way he carried himself, in the haze of daydreams that often clouded him when they worked beyond the Torii. He knew she was aware that something fundamental had been ripped from him and rebuilt, like the cleansing of a Shrine.

He tried to retort, to pull forth some of his usual wit and create something that would satisfy his sisters, both now staring at him expectantly. But the words died before they could form. All he could think about was finding a dark park, Hajime already gone in frustration. He gave his sisters a sheepish look, feet already leading him to the Shrine entrance and down the steps and past the guardian Komainu. He thought he heard Ame call something else but the shout was lost to the wind as he leapt the stone steps two at a time, only the distant lights of the Matsuri guiding him now.

The park wasn't too far away, perhaps a five minute walk. Two minutes if Tooru sprinted. Something within his chest ached.

_If he's still there,_ Tooru told himself, _if he's waited all this time, then that's a sign. If the gods didn't want me to find him, didn't approve of my meeting him at their Shrine, they would have sent him away by now. Right? The gods wouldn't be so docile if they didn't approve._

Tooru dodged through the crowded streets, apologizing to strangers as he weaved his way to the poorly lit park. He slowed as he approached the path, breathing heavy and eyes fighting to adjust to the darkness to find who he desperately sought – who he prayed forgave him for his duties to his family and gods.

There, on a bench nestled under a shedding sakura tree, sat a lone figure – broad shoulders lit by the pale luminescence of the phone in his hand. Perfectly hidden from view, cast in just enough darkness to hide his face and smile as he recognized Tooru's approach – Tooru knew the gods had given him something special, just by the way his heart danced and the wind rustled the leaves overhead as their eyes met. He knew his faith would not lead him wrong, not with how their hands interlocked like the puzzle pieces Tooru always loved to play with as a child and Hajime's natural scowl melted into something fond, something inviting.

Tooru sank into the seat next to him, knees turned to press into Hajime's thigh as he gazed at him in wonderment. He could hear Taiko drums in the distance where the other party-goers had gathered, knew it to be the gods own blessing as one of Hajime's hands came up to cradle his jaw and brush the pads of his fingers under Tooru's ear like he was studying a work of art. He had only seen Hajime look on with such reverence when he saw him kneel in the main hall in prayer, and the thought made Tooru braver. He shuffled closer, his own formal robes rustling against the soft cotton of the dark yukata Hajime had donned for the festivities. Somehow that alone felt more intimate than anything he could imagine with Hajime's hands or eyes.

“Sorry I'm late,” Tooru whispered over the distant cheers. Everything felt so right, as if everything in Tooru's nineteen years of life - every cup of coffee, every failed test, every sleepless night - had aligned just to bring him to this moment, to this man drawing him closer. Perhaps they had.

Hajime's nose bumped his, their faces sliding closer, and Tooru's blood roared in his veins. He was sure Hajime himself could hear it call for him. “No worries,” his thumb stroked along Tooru's jaw line. “I would have waited days for you.”

Tooru had imagined their first kiss like a candle being lit in ceremony, burning gently yet strong and sure. Tooru knew now his fantasies to be wrong – their first kiss was like a storm at sea, or a wildfire ravaging the countryside. Animalistic yet pure and true, burning through his doubts and insecurities as Hajime pulled him flush against his body and met him like a wave crashing against the shoreline. Tooru felt weak in the strength of Hajime's hands, but had placed his full faith within him just as he had with the gods of his Shrine. There was no fear, no panic, just the genuine trust that Hajime would meet him halfway and catch him at his weakest.

-

Hajime didn't return to the Shrine for four days.


	3. Chapter 3

Mom was visiting a family friend, dad would be stuck at work for mid-month crunch until almost 8:00pm, and both his sisters had left to go perusing the mall – leaving Tooru very alone and very bored.

_Come visit. My family’s abandoned me._

He was sprawled across the living room floor, basking in an early afternoon sunbeam with a movie about an adventuring samurai playing in the background, when he received a reply.

_You’re so dramatic._

_Sure._

Tooru had only known Iwaizumi Hajime for mere months, nothing in the span of the infinite expansion of the galaxy, but his heart sung knowing he’d be there – in the Oikawa family home – with Tooru before the cheesy movie had ended.

Hajime knocked quietly, so much so that Tooru almost didn’t hear it, and entered with a sense of care like he was stepping into a shrine. He left his shoes in a neat pile by the door next to Tooru’s, and followed the taller man to his room.

“Figures you’d be a sci-fi nerd,” Hajime grinned, running a hand along the Star Wars poster Tooru had tacked above his desk years ago. Hajime’s eyes flitted about the room, taking in the overflowing bookshelves and unmade bed and the dozens of movie posters that cluttered the walls so thoroughly that he wasn’t quite sure what colour the walls were.

“And proud of it, thank you!” Tooru laughed, picking up a stray book he had left on his desk and pointing it at Hajime’s nose, who only smiled and swatted it away half-heartedly. When Tooru moved to point at Hajime’s face again, the darker haired man grabbed the book with one hand and pulled.

Tooru, unsuspecting, allowed himself to trip forward and nearly crash into the man. His body hummed, realizing how close the two suddenly were, and placed one hand on Hajime’s shoulder to steady himself. Hajime didn’t seem to mind – rather he took the book from Tooru’s other hand and set it aside to pinch at the fabric of Tooru’s dark green shirt with his calloused fingers, tugging him forward again.

This time Tooru only stumbled a step, chests brushing as Tooru tilted his head in curiosity. Hajime brushed their noses together for the smallest fraction of a second before drifting forward, touch feather-light and burning hotter than a collapsing star. His lips parted slightly, Tooru following his lead, and the two met halfway.

It began gentle – Tooru running his hand up Hajime’s bicep to steady himself when the world seemed to crash at his feet and he was sure his heart was in his throat. One of Hajime’s hands slid into Tooru’s hair, carding through the waves lovingly, as the other settled at Tooru’s hip. Tooru could feel the heat of that hand through his clothing, could feel the draw of it as Hajime moved to cup Tooru’s jaw.

Unabashedly, Tooru curled his fingers around Hajime’s shoulders, gently guiding the two so that Tooru’s back was to his desk – a perfect place to perch after he swept a pencil holder aside and settled himself on it’s wooden surface. Hajime stumbled forward, their lips separating for a few heartbeats as Tooru sank onto the desk and their height difference shifted – and then Tooru parted his knees to accommodate Hajime’s hips and he tilted his head back to find Hajime’s panting mouth with his own.  


He was burning, and he was glad for it. Thankful, even.

Hajime’s hand found the golden brunet waves of his hair once more, tracing a path from behind his ear to the back of Tooru’s head where the hair lay flat from his nap in the sun. It felt nice, but it didn’t compare to the feeling that speared his body as Hajime’s fingers curled and then _tugged_ \- 

Tooru allowed himself to follow the movement, head falling back, almost resting on the Star Wars poster Hajime had been admiring earlier. Their mouths parted, Hajime’s skimming to the sharp cut of Tooru’s jaw, while Tooru lost his breath to a sound pulled deep from within his chest – a hedonistic sound that almost embarrassed him in Hajime’s silent exploration but 

Hajime raised his head, the bright emerald of his eyes alight with wonder and _adoration_

And Tooru let himself breathe, to not worry about expectations, to not place his focus on anything outside of the care with which Hajime’s mouth was tracing the tendons of his throat – seeking out his collar bones and rising, creating a pattern that stole the breath from Tooru and he was so grateful.

Hajime’s head dipped to the junction of his shoulder, where the soft slope of his neck met the muscle that cradled his shoulder; a spattering of light freckles, left from a careless dose of summer sun. Tooru’s collar was shifted aside to accommodate his lover’s explorations, almost uncomfortable in the way it stretched against his neck. Tooru allowed the thought of removing it to cross his mind.

But then Hajime sunk his teeth into that forgiving junction and that noise was ripped from him again, animalistic and demanding and contented all at once. This time no embarrassment followed, just the all-consuming heat of affection and _want_ and then the hand not wound tight at the back of his head found the inside of his thigh, exposed under the old shorts Tooru had donned after his shower, and a wayward thumb crept under the hem of the pant leg.

Tooru’s hands found Hajime’s jaw, guiding him back to his face for another slow kiss – a question, a thank you, a prayer

Hajime hummed, the sound passing between the two of them as Tooru closed his knees around Hajime’s hip and the hand on his thigh skimmed upwards—

A door slammed, but the two men didn’t immediately separate. Feminine voices floated to the back of the house, chattering, till one shouted, “Hey Tooru, we saw your ex-girlfriend at the mall today!” A flutter of giggles.

Tooru’s hands were still pressed to Hajime’s jaw as if that was what was holding him together, and Hajime brought his hands to run up and down his arms soothingly. They pulled far enough apart to lock gazes; shining emerald and warm amber, still caught in the remnants of one another’s touch. Hajime swiped a thumb across Tooru’s swollen bottom lip. Tooru bit at the digit, huffing.

“Not today,” Hajime smiled.

“Not today,” Tooru agreed, irritated.

“Come on,” Hajime whispered. He pressed one final kiss to Tooru’s pout, chaste but firm, before pulling Tooru from the desk’s edge.

“Which ex-girlfriend?” Hajime called, straightening his shirt. “Tooru’s dated half the town!”

Tooru swatted at Hajime, laughing and dodging his way out to the living room where Tooru couldn’t retaliate under his sister’s clever gazes. Tooru pretended to be mad at him for that barb – “That’s not _true_!” – but held his hand under the dinner table anyway.


End file.
